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Battle of the two Spocks.

Battling the Blank Page

A blank page is daunting. It's a fact. It's a totally illogical fact, but it's a fact.

Sometimes the vast possibilities presented by that which is unwritten can stymie a writer. Sometimes the idea of modifying a pristine white field (whether paper or word processor) with your inadequate first draft is demoralizing. Yet it's completely illogical: possibilities thwarted by the presence of possibilities? An empty sheet of wood pulp seeming more worthy than words representing your unbridled imagination? It's totally illogical -- and yet totally true.

So true, in fact, that I've been given advice my entire life of how to combat it:

In undergrad my creative writing adviser suggested we all draft in pencil because it would feel less permanent than pen therefore allowing us the ability to put mistakes on the page without fear of ruination.

A middle school English teacher forbade our class from writing in pencil because we were too tempted to erase our good ideas along with our bad -- pen only! Mistakes were to be crossed out, but kept. And when we got our writing back from her we saw why: she nurtured all those aborted thoughts of ours and helped us see that we could stretch beyond the safe answers we thought where the "right" answers.

I've known people who type only with their eyes closed. Or who write at night, turn off their desk lamp and pitch the background color of their word processor black so that they can lose awareness of the screen's harsh, mechanical glare. (This does provide sort of an ethereal state, especially if you alter the text color to something whimsical.)

For as many people who swear by ornate "writer helping" software like scrivner, I've heard from just as many who just want a basic word processor -- cut, paste, spellcheck -- because the additional bells and whistles of "writing helping" software can provide as much distraction as assistance.

Lately, even the word processor has become too fancy for me.

Getting the Ghost

I'm editing a second Specter Spectacular anthology for World Weaver Press. Submissions are open now through June 15, 2013 (details). The first anthology was subtitled 13 Ghostly Tales and this time it's 13 Deathly Tales, allowing us to still include some awesome ghost stories but also expand beyond the spirit trope.

The inbox is seeing a lot of moment-of-death stories, and I encourage writers to look beyond that to the ... beyond. I've been pretty vocal about looking for some great stories of psychopomps (literally meaning "guide of the souls" but I also love the "death midwife" description), and I still want to see more such submissions. I'm also encouraging relevant connections to current society whether that's funny grim reapers glued to their cell phones, displaced Valkyries, parallels between a callus Charon ferrying souls across the river Styx with unscrupulous coyotes shepherding people across the border, or modern folklore retwistings.

Ad of the Week

I fell in love with this narrative. It flew by me on TV, and I've had great fun pausing and playing it back to capture the nuances that are all there. So much more than a minute's narrative tucked into the details.

The Artistic Line Between 'Vulnerable' and 'Self-Destructive'

I've been watching The Voice this season. I tweet my live reactions @EileenWiedbrauk BTW, if you're interested in following those joys, disappointments, and uneducated immediate reactions as I have zero knowledge of the music business beyond that of avid radio station listener.

Here's the big question I've recently been pondering: why was Amy Winehouse such a huge success in such a short life? She had a fascinating voice and a hot body, yes. But so do so many of the young people who try to make it in the music business each year. So do so many of those who make it as contestants but don't win national shows such as The Voice.

Now I admittedly don't know much about the music business. But if I'm to believe what all of The Voice coaches repeatedly say, it's all about finding an emotional connection to the lyrics/song, and finding a way to connect that emotion to the audience that isn't show-tune-emoting. As the coaches say, it's about being vulnerable.

A Whovian Problem: Old men, young men, and decorative vegetables.

We've entered into a season seven (part two) Doctor Who problem which either qualifies as meta sci-fi, or the show and its production have been sucked into the Twilight Zone without its knowledge. Which is, in fact, a meta plot. So I guess that first sentence isn't so much a statement of this or that but more of a this or this non-option.

First problem: In the first few episodes of season 7.2, Clara, the current companion, comes across as more Doctor-ish than the Doctor himself. As if she's the timelord. Or as if she's draining him of his Doctor-ish mojo and his portrayal is becoming that of ... the companion.*

I told you it was very meta.

Clara is bright, witty, spunky. She delivers quick intelligent banter. And while her statements don't necessarily possess all the knowledge of centuries spent traveling the universe in an impossible time machine, she is always intelligent. Sometimes more intelligent than the Doctor. Clara also got to save the day in her first off-earth adventure ("Rings of Akhenaten") in a way that most of the other companions had to earn -- with the possible exception of Amy Pond in "The Beast Below"; although that was more of a save-the-day by gut instinct and the quick, last minute push of a button, whereas Clara had this whole drawn out speech proceeding her high-concept saving-of-the-day. All the other companions had to work up to that sort of Doctorish-understanding of how to save the universe, which makes Clara ... ahead of the game?

Unlike some past companions, Clara doesn't ask dumb questions or jump to mundane conclusions. Where Rose, Donna, and even uber-educated uppermiddleclass Dr. Martha Jones blundered into things in a very modern earth-centric human way, Clara ... doesn't.

Will this become an important aspect of her Impossible Girl conundrum? I sure as hell hope so because otherwise it's just dragging down my viewing experience. Clara's the Doctor, and the Doctor is ... old.

The character of the Doctor in season seven part two, is becoming an old man. But he's a thousand years-old, of course he's an old man! But he was so sprightly and spry when he was a mere 900 years-old, and now he's acting like when we first met him back when he was still traveling with his granddaughter Susan!

Don't think too hard on the problem of the older character now seeming older like he did when he was much much younger -- I tried and all I ended up doing was giving myself ice-cream-style brain freeze. But consider this:

The first few actors to portray Doctor Who played the character as if he were an old man. A weird old man, yes.  But it wasn't until a few actors later that the Doctor gained a youthful energy.

Let me explain. No there is too much. Let me sum up.**

Grimm, Once Upon a Time & Story Structure

I'm blogging as part of World Weaver Press's Fairy Tale Festival today about the throughlines / story structure of the first seasons of GRIMM and ONCE UPON A TIME. Catch the whole article here.

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A beautiful clockwork world -- reason to revive the old ad of the week feature.

Thoughts on Snow White and the Huntsman or How Peter Jackson's LOTRs has spoiled me for all other films

I was really excited for this rendition of Snow White. I really was. And boy, was I disappointed. And it might be Peter Jackson's fault.

No, Peter Jackson didn't work on Snow White and the Huntsman. More's the pity. But because of Peter Jackson, I now expect films of high fantasy to be visually gorgeous and knit together with great sense. Yes, LOTR was written by Tolkien, not Jackson and his creative crew. But the script was rewritten by Jackson and his creative crew. They cut and reorganized. They said hey, it makes no sense for the climax of the first story arc to be in second story. So they change it. And so on.

Snow White and the Hunstman did have some cool visual effects. Like when ... whenever Charlize Theron had a scene.

The first problem with this film is casting Charlize Theron as a character whose main crisis is that her rival is more beautiful than she is. Who -- who? -- in Hollywood do you possibly cast to play that part? Kristen Stewart, who was cast to play that part, isn't an ugly girl, but she, like most American women, can't outshine Charlize Theron, even with movie magic. Not by anyone's standard. Remedy? Flash back to the now-dead old Queen telling young Snow White that she's beautiful on the inside. Ooooh. Inner beauty. Got it. Doesn't make much sense given the whole mirror trope, but we'll role with it.

The second problem is how we connect to the main characters. The Queen was creepy. Great. Goosebumps: Check. The huntsman was rugged but troubled. Deadly, with a devastating past. We can totally empathize with him. (It wasn't until I went to write this post that I realized he was played by Chris Hemsworth -- you know, Thor.) Snow White? It was impossible to care about her or root for her success.

I should preface all my following statements with the fact that this was the first movie I'd ever seen Kristen Stewart in. I'd not watched Twilight at the time and I have no personal feelings about her assorted romantic dealings which headline the tabloids. But damn, did her performance ruin this film.

Every time she was on screen she made me remember that I was watching a movie. I couldn't ever get into it because I spent all my time wondering why the hell is she doing that?

Anyone else see the pilot of Defiance and think, 'Hey, Syfy just repurposed Eureka'?

Consider this: A new guy traveling with his angry teenage daughter arrives in town after losing his car. He strikes up a friendly relationship with the current sheriff based on one's admiration of the other. The town bosslady, however, is not so keen on him staying in town. Bosslady is hot and the new guy obviously has a thing for her, but he's not going to act on it because he's getting out of dodge as soon as his vehicle situation is remedied. But as it turns out, he has the sort of street smarts that make him useful in solving the town's problems -- and manage to alienate him in the eyes of the male tycoon. He solves the town's crisis (well, one of the town's crises), then leaves with his daughter only to return without her before the end of the episode. Don't worry, she'll be back. And by the end of the pilot, the new guy has been installed as town law man after an unfortunate incident rendered the former sheriff incapacitated.

Mmmhmm. It's true: The Eureka pilot episode is the Defiance pilot episode.

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Don't Play It Safe

[Image/quote via Advice to Writers]

As a writer, you should fall in love with your characters at some point, even the dastardly ones. Perhaps the dastardly ones most of all because when else in life is it safe to love a psychopath? But what I often see is the more a writer writes about a set of characters, the less she is able to torture them. She cares about them now and wants to give them a happy life / happy ending.

But creating meaningful ways to torture your characters is important to the narrative. Extremely important.

It's easy to set up a character with a conflict when you haven't yet gotten to know them, but as you come to understand their complexities, you -- like a good parent -- want to smooth the road ahead of them instead of throwing giant obstacles in their way.

Think of the movie Twister. A simple enough plot: chase a series of tornadoes trying to get close enough to put a scientific instrument inside a twister, all while grappling with daddy-issues and a marriage that's fallen apart. I'm not saying that Twister is the perfect narrative -- I'm saying that as your characters drive down the country road of the plot, you need to throw stuff at them. Throw a crazed rival scientist at them. Throw a new fiancée at them. Throw a cow at them. Roll a runaway house directly into their path. And if driving through a tumbling house wasn't enough -- throw an oil tanker at them and make it explode.

Keep throwing stuff at your characters -- physical obstacles and emotional ones. Give 'em both barrels. Inflict pain and suffering. Make it hurt so good.

Because we love to read it when it hurts so good.